What a difference a day makes
by 2AM
Summary: Red Hot episode tag, therefore spoilers for that episode. Jane and Lisbon talk about what happened in the last scene. There is some confusion, followed by mutual understanding. Jello by the way just in case you were wondering. K plus: some bad words.


Title: What a difference a day makes

Spoilers: RED HOT (03x07) SPOILERS! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE EPISODE AND WISH TO REMAIN UNSPOILED!

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist (And it would be nice, if the people who do, would stop selling my muse amphetamines. How am I supposed to get any actual work done when she's high on Lisburn/Jello-love-triangle?). Don't own 'what a difference a day makes' either... sometimes life just sucks!

Pairings: Jello (mentions Lishburn)

Warnings: Swear words

AN: I saw the episode... and my muse went NUTS... let's just say that I'm not joking about the amphetamines!

AN.5: After having it beta'd (and thanks for doing such a great job at it Autumn!) and rereading it... I don't really know how I feel about this anymore... I hope you enjoy it... and if not, tell me why you don't ;)

**What a difference a day makes**

I'm late. The last to arrive on the crime scene. I try not to do that. Even Jane (Mr. Fashionably-Late-is-my-Style) is already here. Just my luck.

"Good morning, everybody. What do we have here?" A very suspicious team apparently. It's obvious that Rigsby and Van Pelt are dying to ask where I've been. Cho, dutiful as ever, looks at anything but me, while he rattles down facts about our new case. And Jane... Jane knows. Of course he knows. He's probably known since yesterday evening. What surprises me is that he's grinning. Not the cat-got-the-canary, I'm-gonna-embarrass-you-in-just-a-moment grin, but the life-is-good grin. Huh... I was so sure he'd be... not pissed obviously, but maybe a little subdued. A little less happy-go-lucky. A tiny bit jealous.

We're sitting in the car on our way to question a witness. Just Jane and me. He still hasn't said anything. Maybe he thought I was uncomfortable enough while we were processing the scene and wants to wait till I feel like I'm back on solid ground before he starts using his knowledge against me. His mood has gotten progressively worse over the last hour or so. Maybe it took him a while to understand the implications of what I've obviously done. I'm sure Mr. I-See-Everything noticed the satisfied afterglow I was radiating when I stepped out of my car. But why only react to it now? It's official; Patrick Jane makes no sense whatsoever. Correction; men make no sense whatsoever. Otherwise Walter wouldn't have called me.

"So..." Jane's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"So... what?" In my head, I hit a huge red button that turns on my defense mechanisms.

"Did you have a... nice evening yesterday?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"Good, that's... good. You're too tense, work too much. It's good to... relax every once in a while."

He's fishing, but for what? "Yeah, yeah. Right."

"Of course, it shouldn't... shouldn't become a regular feature. We wouldn't want to ruin your perfect reputation for being an early-bird of the excessively-punctual kind." He sounds so uncomfortable.

I blink. Did he just imply...? "Jane..."

"Not that it's any of my business really. Just pointing out the possible... consequences of, erm... of that kind of behavior."

"Well, thank you for that. It's always good to get an expert's opinion on the really important things in one's life, and you are so good when it comes to understanding the consequences of your actions." I can't help the scathing quality in my voice. Who the hell does he think he is anyway?

"Sorry, sorry..." I glance over, trying to find out if he's sincere. When I see the pain in his eyes, I quickly turn my gaze back to the road. I don't know what the hidden message in this conversation was, but I do realize that I didn't get it, and I just screwed up. Big time.

Surprisingly, my day doesn't get progressively worse after my little 'chat' with Jane. It just stays at the level of awkward-tension we've reached by the time we arrive at our destination. The widow is sad and broken, but doesn't get through the wall of professionalism that I use as a shield during the rest of the day. We catch the perp. No one's injured. I don't have to write a report or an apology because of Jane's unruly behavior. I don't have to stay at the office until some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. I actually get to leave on time. I'm halfway through an episode of my favorite show when there's a knock on my door.

Jane stands on the other side, leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn't look at me and I get the feeling that he is even more uncomfortable than during our chat in the car. He's not carrying ice cream, so this is not about bribing me or getting on my good side or cheering me up. That begs the question – why is he here at all?

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." I turn around and walk back over to the couch. He follows me in, but remains standing on the other side of the coffee table. He's looking at a spot behind my head intently, as if focusing on me is too much to ask. I can't blame him. I didn't realize that I had the ability to hurt him until it was too late.

"I don't know how to say this..." He sounds rushed, like there is some kind of time limit. "I don't think there is a good way to say this... but I need you to understand... to know... I need to know..." He takes a deep breath; he still doesn't look at me. It's about as un-Jane-like as it gets. "This thing, with you and Mashburn... It's just... it's... it's passion without love, right? That's all?"

I have never seen Patrick Jane look this insecure. I didn't think he was capable of that particular emotion.

"That's what one night stands are all about, isn't it?"

He nods, and the glimmer of pain in his eyes dulls a little.

"It's just that I... You're... you're important to me. More important than you realize, and... and I... I know that you... I know you feel... things, for me. I know that and I also know that you have... needs. And I'm not fulfilling them, and I don't have a problem if you... y'know, but I just... I need to know that in the end, when all is said and done... you'll be there. Someday." At the last word, he finally looks at me. He stares directly into my eyes, and I can see all the things in them that he can't say right now; all the things that are still hurting too much to be thought about, to be felt.

Suddenly, the conversation in the car makes a lot more sense. He was trying to tell me that he didn't resent me for betraying my unexpressed and apparently reciprocated feelings for him. And now he's asking me... he's asking me not to move on without him; telling me that he needs me. Emotions rush through me. In my heart, something melts, mends, develops as I finally allow myself to reach out to him. Just for this one moment, I give in to the urge to be close to him; to touch him. He pulls me into his arms and holds me like he never wants to let me go. I close my eyes, enjoying every second of it. Who knows when I'll be able to be this close to him again?

At some point, we have to let each other go. He sighs and hangs his head, and I wish so badly I could take his pain away. Finally he looks up, and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes is back.

"Did I tell you about Van Pelt's disastrous lunch date?" He asks, using his most coercing gossip voice.

"No, you didn't. What happened? Ice Cream?" I'm already on my way to the freezer.

"Do you have any Cookies and Cream left? She was late because she'd forgotten about the time while talking to 'Wayne'. Craig-head was not amused."

"Oh, really? How exactly did O'Loughlin find out about it? Hm... sorry, no Cookies and Cream. And no Mint Chocolate Chip either – I think we'll have to go on a quick shopping trip. Next 7-Eleven is two blocks from here... but you already know that, don't you?" I try to sound annoyed about his stalking habits, but can't help the smile on my lips.

"Yes, of course I do... where do you think I buy the copious amounts of ice cream required to calm you down whenever I pull one of my absolutely harmless schemes?"

I throw my keys at his head and laugh as he ducks.

Something changed tonight. Something changed, and I never saw it coming. And I feel happy. More happy than this morning when I said goodbye to Walter, and I _was_ happy then. This morning I was preparing for a hellish day of teasing, my only shield being the satisfied feeling deep inside my body. Now, slightly more than twelve hours later, I feel exhilarated, satisfied somewhere deep inside my heart.

"_What a difference a day makes... twenty-four little hours..._" Jane has picked up the keys and is dancing out the door, singing. I allow him to draw me into his arms and sway me down the hall towards the stairs. Suddenly, I understand all those sappy people who talk endlessly about being in love... because I finally know what it feels like. "_It's heaven when you... find romance on your menu... what a difference a day made... and the difference is you..._"

**The end**

AN2: you know what's going to happen now, don't you? I'm going to make some stupid joke in a lame attempt to get you to review... well not this time, I don't feel like joking. So there. *puts-on-Lisbon's-pouty-face*


End file.
